


sugary lemon teas

by orphan_account



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, And That's A Flex, Author knows French, Fluff, Hotels, Im just here to have fun yknow, M/M, Mentioning Of Darren Criss, Please Help The Author, The Author Is Under Quarantine, The Author Isn't Taking Herself Seriously, and i hope you have fun while reading it, maybe too much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23202811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There comes a moment in everyone's life where they realize that everything isn’t black and white, that there’s a grey area in the middle. There isn’t always a moment where they realize that they are that grey area, maybe someone will point it out but most times people will live their entire lives thinking that they are an ordinary human, just another face in the crowd.Ryan realized that he was that grey area at age 22 when he got kicked out of his house and decided to go to France where he met Shane.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	sugary lemon teas

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!! This is my first fic like, ever.
> 
> I had some help from my close friend [Angi](https://twitter.com/angivisser_?s=20) with the sentences and shizzle so thank you Angelique!
> 
> I really really hope you all enjoy this because it was a lot of fun to write!!
> 
> I hope this is a nice distraction while yall are social distancing (;
> 
> Enjoy!

There comes a moment in everyone's life where they realize that everything isn’t black and white, that there’s a grey area in the middle. There isn’t always a moment where they realize that they are that grey area, maybe someone will point it out but most times people will live their entire lives thinking that they are an ordinary human, just another face in the crowd.

Ryan realized that he was that grey area at age 22. If someone is unfortunate enough to be kicked out of their house after coming out, most people's survival instincts kick in. They call up a close friend, stay there for a few days, make a survival plan. They rationalize their money, find a job if they don’t have one, and start looking for cheap apartments to stay in.

That’s the black and white.

The grey however, is exactly what Ryan did. Instead of his survival instincts, his ‘God, I really don’t give a fuck anymore’ instincts kicked in. He put his two weeks notice in his job, went to the bank and transferred his college funds -if he gave that many fucks about college he would’ve done it by now. It’s a lost dream at this point- to his account, brought himself a beret - he was never one to not answer to the call of stereotypes- and booked himself a one-way, red eye plane to France.

The plane ride was uneventful, sitting in the aisle seat next to a mother and her daughter. Originally he had the window seat but he couldn’t deny this big brown eyed maybe-four year old when she asked oh so nicely to sit next to the window. He decided -judging by her hot mess purple dress and fluorescent yellow tights- that she already has enough going on in her life and he simply couldn’t deny her and let her have it. The rest of the flight went by with the occasional awkward shift of the mother and daughter going to the toilets and a tiny voice exclaiming in an astonished voice; “Look at the pretty clouds!”

France welcomed him at midnight with a warm drizzle. He called a taxi and with an unexplainable combination of what remaining French he had left from high school, Google Translate, and saying English words with a french accent he managed to ask the driver to take him to a motel that was cheap but he wouldn’t die in. It was there, in the taxi, where it was really starting to sink in that there wasn’t any going back. He was away from his town, his friends, his home and he didn’t have a single clue as to what was going to happen next. The car slowed down and Ryan found himself in front of a decent looking motel. He looked up to the moon, the rain streaming down his face, took a deep breath and made his way to the front desk, mentally cursing himself for having his first emotional moment in the parking lot of a motel.

His room was bigger than he imagined it would be. A nice couch facing a fairly modern TV on one side of the room, a twin sized bed on the other. He put down his suitcase and backpack next to the bed, put on one of his playlists and hopped in the shower, singing as loud as he could without getting kicked out. God, he would literally rather die than be alone with his thoughts, which were trying their best to rip Ryan apart from the seams. His main goal was to go through the five stages of grief as quickly as he could without actually going through them.

Turning off the hot water, wrapping a towel around his waist, and carefully walking out of the bathroom into the carpeted room, Ryan turned on the TV just to turn it off after seeing a happy family on a commercial for birth control pills. Deciding he was too sober for this shit, he made his way to his backpack, grabbed the bottle of wine he had brought from the airport. Walking into the kitchen he noticed the balcony, slightly wet as the rain slowed down, and what looked like a thousand shining lights illuminating a pool, he sat down on the fold out seat dumped on the ground and cracked open his drink.

As he looked out the window into the sparkling stars up above, his playlist still playing in the background slightly muffled, he decided that _THIS_ , this was the moment to have an emotional moment. This was a new beginning, a brand new chapter in his life and Ryan sure as hell was going to make the most of it. After he finishes this drink of course.

The second day treats him kinder than the first. Even though he wakes up in the bathtub with a crippling pain in his back and one of the worst headaches known to mankind, he still managed to look and feel like a normal human being by noon, thanks to instant soup and a black coffee. He ventured off into the streets of Paris, not having a clue of what he was going to do but he was pretty used to winging shit by this point. Sure he did get lost a few times, and he was pretty sure someone was trying to rob him at some point but he had never felt so free. He had the freedom to do anything short of murder and he didn’t have anyone holding him back. It made his soul feel lighter than it was the night before.

When the stars started calling him back to bed, Ryan walked back home, firmly gripping a packet of pastries he swore to save until breakfast no matter how much the smells of freshly baked goods and melted chocolate begged to be devoured. Walking past his neighbor’s door which was blasting songs at a deathening volume, though he could never be one to judge looking at his behaviour from the night before. It was an unspoken but universally known rule that there wasn’t a problem that Lorde couldn’t solve, and clearly they were going through some shit. Shifting out of his jeans but not bothering with his shirt Ryan collapsed on his bed letting the days exhaustion carry him into a dreamless sleep.

The void was interrupted by the muffled sounds of Ke$ha’s Tik Tok. He didn't know what to do as he stared at the ceiling, one iconic 2009 song morphing into another and as the Glee Cover of Teenage Dream started playing he got up, everything about him conveying the notion that he was pissed. He made his way to the neighboring apartment. No offense to Darren Criss, an international icon, but who in their right mind listens to Glee covers? Fuck the French. When he loudly knocked on the door trying to get somebody's attention, a guy with messy hair and an unbuttoned shirt opened the door. From the people dancing behind him it became obvious that this wasn't a five stages of grief, thinking about your bleak future while Britney Spears tells you that she's not that innocent, but was actually a party. Upon seeing how attractive the guy leaning on the door was, Ryan couldn’t help but think _oh fuck, please can_ I _fuck the french._

“Je peux t’aider?” The guy asked. Fuck. He cursed his American mentality which automatically assumed that everyone knew perfect English.  


“Uh, je… je voudrais que tu… j’aime le silence..” He tried as a response.

“Tu n’es pas français?” The mysterious guy asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Uh non— Tu parle anglais?” Ryan asked, waving his hands around like he could somehow make up a signal that would make this tall demigod-like stranger understand his pain and Americanized French.

“Yeah I do, little guy. What’s the problem?”

First he was woken up from his slumber, then was forced to listen to shitty music, and now he was called ‘little’? What kind of a hellhole was this place?!

“Yeah, I was looking for the person who runs this shithole. I was planning to judge them for their horrible music taste.” Ryan replied, doing his best to keep a straight face.

"You’re looking at the guy right here," he said, gesturing to himself. "What's wrong with the international icon that is Darren Criss?”

“I think we all know that Chris Colfer is better—” He got interrupted by a figure appearing next to the mystery guy, she was shorter than him, and Ryan, but equally attractive. Leave it to the French to make Ryan question his sexuality.

“Shane? Qui est-ce?” She slurred.

“Oui Amélie, j’essaye de le découvrir. You are?”

_Annoyed by your music taste._

_Hating international icon, Darren Criss._

_Attracted to you._

_And strangely the girl next to you._

_FUCK the French._

“Uh— Ryan. Yeah, Ryan.” He stammered, stumbling out of his thoughts not so gracefully.

“Nice to meet you Yeah, Ryan, why don’t you come inside and join the party! We have enough drinks and cute girls, I promise you won’t be bored.”

Ryan briefly debated going back to his own apartment and listening to the thumping music next door and risking having to listen to Glee covers for the rest of the night, or actually being a part of the wild dumpster fire that the party inside is.

“I will, if you play something good.”

“What is it that the great Yeah, Ryan wants to hear?"

“It's just Ryan," he said rolling his eyes but not managing to fight off the grin on his face, "Do you have any of Panic’s older stuff? We can carry on your impromptu nostalgia theme without having to listen to Glee."

“We do Just Ryan, now come on in and don't forget to close the goddamn door.” Shane smirked, handing him a drink. Ryan hadn’t even noticed he’d taken steps forward into the apartment during the conversation.

He took a sip of the dark liquid, which turned out to be some cheap red wine, solidifying the fact that this wasn't a shady frat party in Amsterdam, it really was a motel party in France. He smiled at Shane and lost himself into old music and new bodies until it all became one neon blur before fading to black.

**Author's Note:**

> [follow my tumblr - bccgaras (((:](https://bccgaras.tumblr.com)


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